


Cobalt Sunset

by CrimsonRoseAlchemist



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Awkward Crush, Bad Ending, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Crushes, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Crush, First Love, Gen, Heartache, Heartbreak, Light Angst, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, One-Sided Relationship, POV First Person, POV Yuri Plisetsky, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Sad Ending, Teen Crush, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, Vomiting, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-03-21 13:16:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13741695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrimsonRoseAlchemist/pseuds/CrimsonRoseAlchemist
Summary: Yuri Plisetsky wanted to knock him down from his pedestal, but wasn't ready to breathe in the dust in the aftermath. He wouldn't forgive Katsuki Yuuri for taking Viktor away from him, or for making him so weak.





	1. Charcoal

Silver locks like moonlight, the epitome of grace. Weightless when he spun, effortlessly falling into place when he skidded to a halt. Blades scraping differently that anyone else’s- his movements made a different sound. His entire being gave off a different presence, both on and off the ice. You always knew when he had walked into a room, or when he had glided onto the ice.

It was just as soft as it looked, slipping through your fingers like silk. I had only touched it once before he’d cut it off- a fleeting touch, a daring brush of my fingers. My breath had caught when he’d turned around, bending down to meet my eyes. He tucked a stray lock behind his ear, making me wish that I had been the one able to do so- anything to touch those strands again.

“You could have just asked, Yuri.”

Him knowing my name had only served to make my lungs grow heavy in my chest. Suddenly, I couldn’t take in a breath. Cheeks burning, I spun on my heel, dashing on wobbly legs to the locker room. Head buried in my knees, I cursed myself for ever thinking I could touch something so precious, sublime.

Yakov shouted when he came in a few months later, silver locks shed. I gripped the edge of the rink barrier, eyes widening as he ran his fingers through the short strands. He saw me looking, ignoring Yakov in favor of taking a step closer to me. He bent down, freshly cut bangs falling forward.

“Tell me,” he whispered, “is it still soft?”

I still cannot decide whether to place the blame on a moment of weakness or a foolish, eight-year-old mind. But I reached out, fingers running through his bangs. They were just as soft as his long, silken strands. I took in a sharp breath, jerking my hand back to my side as he lifted his head. When he smiled at me, my chest caved again, leaving me close to trembling.

“Well?” He asked, icy eyes meeting mine. “Still soft?”

I had swallowed hard, nodding. I didn’t trust myself with words. I suddenly felt like I might slip on the ice, both hands coming up to grab the rink barrier once more as Viktor flashed me a media-worthy smile. He shook his head, fluorescent lights reflect off silver like the moon on a glassy lake.

“I’m glad,” he murmured before walking away.

Sometime after he shed his hair, his passion fell along with it. You could no longer tell when Viktor Nikiforov entered the room, or glided onto the ice. His presence became lacking, and Yakov stopped treating him like his only hope. He was just another one of us, another skater. I knew he cut his hair for a reason; he had already lost something inside of him, but he needed it to be concrete.

I was ten years old when I first attempted a quad. Yakov had shouted, of course, until my ears were ready to bleed. I had barely started landing triples- I could have broken my arm, my leg, my neck. I could have cracked my skull. Eventually, his words became jumbled and I couldn’t make them out anymore. I hadn’t been thinking of any consequence, I had been watching a blur of black and silver from across the rink, landing quads as if he could do so in his sleep.

He skidded to a stop sometime during Yakov’s lecture, locking eyes with me from across the ice. At that moment, the world shrunk down to nothing as I stared at him. The air between us began to crack and my lungs splintered along with it, crumbling under the weight of a realization: I loved him. I loved Viktor, and I knew that he would never love me. I barely made it into the bathroom before emptying my lunch into the sink.

He was a whirlwind of broken promises, but at the time, I thought they were sincere. When I was twelve years old and he promised to choreograph my senior debut, I thought the deal was set in stone. What could possibly get in the way of something as simple as choreographing me a routine?

The answer was a man I found blubbering in a bathroom stall after he choked on his routine, the same man that I later found half naked and completely wasted at the banquet. For one of the few times in the six years I had known him, I watched Viktor’s eyes light up with something animated and exhilerated . As the drunk man clung to him, a pink tint dusted his cheeks. His eyes turned from cold ice into a tropical sea, and I knew that any inspiration he had lost years before was pouring back into him. But why, at the sight of such a disheveled mess?

_He had never looked at me like that, before._

_And he never would._

He tossed me aside, a shirt into his dirty laundry bin. I was too old and worn out for him to bother picking up when I fell off the edge of the basket. He had a new Yuri now, and I meant nothing to him. But still, I chased after him. Though I wanted nothing more than to forget the fleeting promise he had made, I still got on a plane to Japan. I needed him to remember his promise. I needed him to remember me.

I didn’t find Viktor in Japan; I found a stranger. Where was the Viktor who hid behind a mask, who made the media think he was a God? How had he become so comfortable in the short time he was gone? Comfortable enough, it seemed, to cling to Yuuri as if he was his last hope. It took me only three days to realize that he was. When he and I spoke, it was just a reverberation of his words against mine. When he and Yuuri spoke, prose was written in the air between them.

Viktor Nikiforov was charcoal, the blending of light and dark. He always covered up the smudged pieces with a silver glint and a fleeting smile, one that most couldn’t see through. He was charcoal, but he had always hidden it well. Now, he was on display. Filthy and imperfect, letting Yuuri inside in a way I’d never dreamed of being let in. He trusted a mousey stranger more than someone he had known for seven years.

I knew that I should give up, and leave things as they were. But that was easier said than done. It’s difficult to convince the heart to listen to a head that is so jumbled, so fixated on someone. They say that when you build something up, you also have the power to break it. But I never had the power to destroy the pedestal I'd put him on, if only in my head. I was too weak, clinging to a false hope, and I knew that I always would be. I would need to wait until he destroyed me, instead. And destroy me, it did.


	2. Gold

I filled myself up with emptiness, trying to live outside the shadow of his beautiful storm. It worked for a while- I was determined to become greater than he ever was. No longer my idol, he was a past rival. If he wasn’t brave enough to face me himself, then I would break his records, leaving chaos in my wake. I didn’t need him to skate on the same ice as me in order to beat him.

Yuuri was no longer a pathetic mess sobbing in a bathroom stall. The same thing that had fueled my skating now fueled his instead, and he had Viktor by his side to validate him. He knew more about love than me- he showed it as he launched himself into a quad flip. It was at that moment that I realized it was over- I didn’t have the guts to look at Viktor’s face. I knew I wouldn’t have been able to handle whatever it held on it.

For he next several days, each time I closed my eyes I saw nothing but Viktor vaulting forward, capturing Yuuri's lips in a kiss. The image was burned into my mind, and my chest. Each time I replayed their lips meeting, my chest would ache with a familiar feeling, like my ribs were going to crack at any moment. They didn’t, though the space behind them grew heavier and heavier, sinking down into my gut.

Once together, they were untouchable; _invincible_. So I made it my mission to break them as I had been broken. But, my heart was too heavy for me to succeed. I couldn't break something that was made out of gold. It didn’t occur to me until after the medal was around my neck and weighing heavy on my chest- this gold wasn’t the one Yuuri had been searching for, nor another medal that Viktor longed for. The one that they needed was around each of their fingers, a promise of a future. A future together, with no room for me in it.

I thought that he would go back to Hasetsu, where he could stroll the beach with Yuuri and let cherry blossoms flutter down to catch in his silver strands. Instead he asked Yakov to coach him again." Bile rose in my throat when I heard him discussing his plans- he'd stay here and train under Yakov, while simultaneously coaching Yuuri. What a nightmare.

“Yurio, come and eat lunch with us!”

The same phrase, repeated every other day, for three weeks straight. The sound of that nickname still made my gut twist, serving as another reminder that I had been replaced. Yuuri had taken everything from me- my Viktor, my name, and now my coach and my rink. He may have been a succubus, hiding behind a veil of good intentions, but he couldn't fool me any longer. Where I once saw weakness, I now saw an act.

“Fuck off,” I would answer each time. I made a point of avoiding them both, though it did nothing to prevent them from seeking me out. They would corner me in the locker room, on the ice, on my way out the lobby doors. Viktor even showed up at Lilia's house one evening, but I promptly slammed the door in his face. Still, they didn’t let up.

Every brush of their hands, every kiss blown across the rink- it left me aching. Viktor showered Yuuri with affection as though he'd wither and die without it. I wished he would. His actions rippled out, trapping me under tiny waves. Relentless, they pushed me underneath and I could no longer breathe. Yet, he looked at me as if he didn't have a clue what he was doing to me. Of course, he truly didn’t. 

The only embrace we ever shared still tingled on my skin, months after. It lit me aflame and kept me wanting more, but I knew that I would never touch him again. It was the closest I’d ever been to him, and the closest I would ever be. Only Yuuri was fit to stand by his side, regardless of which medal hung around his neck. I was insignificant, and I always had been. It just took me a bit too long to realize it.

The burning desire to beat him had diminished sometime between last season and the upcoming one. He wasn't the one to beat, anymore. He had fallen from grace, and I had already beaten him once by winning gold against Yuuri. So what was left now for me? Where did I go from here?

I was too caught up in trivial things like the pain in my heart, and the heaviness that was slowly spreading out into my limbs. My jumps weren't as easy, anymore. It hurt to lift my legs at all. Each loving glance between them left me ready to splinter and crumble right onto the ice. Yakov didn't fail to notice my distraction, and I became familiar once more with the feeling that my ears may start to bleed.

“Yuratchka!”

My grandfather had been the only one to ever call me “Yuratchka” until I came to Yakov. Then, he would call me both, as well. Occasionally, even Viktor would call me by that name, and it had made my heart skip a beat. Now, I wished that no one would call me anything at all. I wanted to disappear.

“Yuratchka.”

This time, the name was spoken softly, close to my ear. I stiffened immediately as I looked up at Viktor, his gaze warmer than I had seen it in some time. His elbows joined mine on the rink barrier, his head tilting as he searched my face for something I didn't want him to find.

“What do you want?” I reflexively hid behind my hair, keeping him from scanning my face any longer.

“Something is on your mind, and your skating is suffering from it,” he murmured bluntly.

My eyes scoured the rink, scanning it until I saw where Yuuri was practicing his routine in the far corner. Another scoff, and my hands moved to the grip the barrier. I was a child again, my wobbly knees ready to let me sink onto the unforgiving cold below. I wouldn’t let him see the effect he was having on me. 

“It’s just my growth spurt. Now go back to your pig,” I spat, pleased with how harsh it ended up coming out.

Viktor saw right through me, rolling his eyes. “Is that why you’re so distracted? You don’t like him being here?”

Blood boiling, my knees were strengthened immediately. "He's a coward- I found him crying in the toilets after he fucked up his program. Why would you want to be with someone like him?"

Viktor only smiled, cocking his head to the side. "You may think you are being strong by shutting everyone out, but really, you are the biggest coward of them all. It takes bravery to share your naked soul with someone, and Yuuri does that every day."

I forced myself to pretend that his words didn’t sting like salt on a fresh wound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my friend Sheep for proofing this :)


	3. Crimson

When his pedestal crumbled beneath him, I choked on the dust left behind. When he came crashing down after it, I took the brunt of his fall. He landed squarely on my chest, my ribs cracking one by one beneath his frame. Each rib that broke would puncture, and soon my lungs could take in no more air. They were deflated, stagnant. When he fell from his pedestal, I was the only one who was hurt by what was left in his wake.

On his pedestal, he was silver. He covered his flaws with a shiny gleam, a wink of his eye and sparkling teeth. But when he stood up from the cloud of dust, he was even more tarnished than before. Bare for all to see, he was the epitome of confidence. He wasn’t afraid to be weak anymore. Charcoal and diamonds are both made from the same substance, yet one is dull and the other shimmers. Viktor had crumbled under the weight that used to render him sparkling. Now, he left all his marks on display for the world to see. 

I couldn’t envy him for it, and I couldn’t envy Yuuri, either. I had built up my walls, and it had taken years. There was no use in destroying something you had taken so long to make. Why Viktor had thrown away his Godlike aura was beyond me, but I would make sure not to follow down the same path. I would get over him. I would progress, and I would be fine. I didn’t need him to look up to, or to love.

My heart still burned in my chest, enough to make my stomach sick. Every touch between them made me want to scream. I repeated it to myself over and over- _it was just a crush, a childhood crush. You don’t love him anymore._ There was only one problem with my mantra: First crushes and boyish fantasies didn't last for seven years, did they?

He was charcoal, but I was viridian. Not like the spring in my eyes, but like the jealousy bubbling in my chest. Like the grass, that could only flourish on a pile of dirt. I was viridian, but I hid it well from the charcoal that wouldn’t seem to leave me alone. I wouldn’t let myself become further tarnished by his changes. I would get over him, if it was the last thing I did.

Yuuri wasn’t charcoal, and he wasn’t viridian. He was crimson, smooth and sultry. Wrapping Viktor in silk scarves and hiding his Eros under the veil of Agape- the Agape that _I_ was supposed to possess. Crimson, he was, like the blood that boiled in my veins. How I wished to use my fist and bloody his nose, though I knew it would only cause more trouble for me.

“Yuuri.”

The name sounded like mine, but no longer belonged to me. When it was spoken, it was directed at _him_. For the first few weeks, I would instinctively look up at the sound of it, making a fool of myself when I realized that Yuuri was the one being addressed. After a month, I no longer felt the urge to raise my head. I knew that no one would be calling me by my proper name any longer.

“ _Yuuri_.”

Viktor had the Japanese man pressed against the bleachers, a smirk stretching his lips as he leaned in, nearly closing the space between them. Noses touching, I held my breath as Yuuri relaxed under Viktor’s ministrations, his eyes fluttering shut. He licked his lips in anticipation, breathing,

“Vitya.”

He was even calling Viktor “Vitya” now? It was too much. I let out the breath I had been holding in, throwing my skating bag onto a nearby bench with a thud. “You two are fucking _disgusting_ ,” I barked, falling down onto the hard surface and yanking at the laces of my skates.

Yuuri gasped quietly, and I heard shuffling that could only mean they were pulling away from each other. Footsteps approached me as I tugged off my right skate, a quiet voice offering what seemed to be a sincere apology.

“We’re sorry, Yurio. We didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

I didn’t meet his eyes, staring down at his skates for a moment. They needed sharpening; Viktor would have to take him to his skate shop here in Russia soon. They also looked scuffed- didn’t he ever get his boots maintained? You’d think his coach would have taught him better.

“I’m not uncomfortable, and that’s not my fucking name.”

“Right,” he whispered, even quieter. His skates shuffled as he shifted, clearly unsure of himself and the situation. “I-It would just be confusing, with two Yuri’s, you kn-”

“Then go back to Japan.” I didn’t miss a beat as I ripped off the second skate, my sock slipping off with it. 

“Don’t take it out on him.” Another pair of skates joined Yuuri’s, these ones with golden blades. Gold and silver; he was metallic in every sense of the word. “If you’re still angry with me, that’s fine, but don’t take it out on him.”

He was already joining me on the bench when I raised my eyes, only causing me to drop them once more. Yuuri’s skates disappeared from view, and I was left alone with him. “Angry at you for _what_?”

“For forgetting your program. That’s why you’ve hated Yuuri all this time, isn’t it?” Viktor paused for a moment, chuckling softly. “Or was it even before that? Did you see him as weak, is that why you yelled at him in the bathroom?”

I gripped the bench with both hands, feet forgotten as one sock still covered my right foot. “He was weak. He still is. And he’s made you weak, too.”

“No, you’re wrong about that,” he murmured. “He has become strong, and he’s made me strong along with him.”

I ripped the sock from my foot, yanking both of my sneakers onto bruised, bare feet. “You’re a fool.”

“I love you.”

I froze, trembling hands still clutching the laces of my sneakers. There was no way I heard him right. My head jolted up, searching the room for Yuuri, or Mila, or anyone else that might be nearby. There were no way those words were directed at me- but there was no one else near us. I swallowed thickly, quickly ducking my head back down to sloppily finish lacing my shoes.

Viktor sighed. "It's alright, you don't have to love me."

The words were caught in my throat- _I do. I love you more than you love me, more than you can ever know_. But instead, I just shrugged my shoulders and stood, leaving him alone on the bench. I wasn't brave enough, and I never would be.

“Yurio, you left your skating bag!”

I didn’t go back for it. I rushed through the lobby and out the double doors, not stopping until I was halfway down the block. It was all too much- it had always been too much. Panting, I leant back against the side of a building. I had to snap out of it. I couldn’t stand this anymore. Hand still fighting off tremors, I pulled out my phone and dialed the only number I could think to save me from a cruel fate. Guilt rising in my chest, I said hello to my only friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to my friend Sheep for looking this over!


	4. Alabaster

He said that I had the eyes of a soldier, but his own were blind to my deception. He had looked at me, expressionless, but I knew that there was more hidden underneath. He was my first and only friend, but I didn’t treat him as a friend should. I called him when I was hurting, knowing that he would come if I asked. And of course, he did.

“Yuri.”

Finally, my proper name was used to address me. I grinned, sprinting towards him and throwing my arms around his waist. He almost fell back at the force of the impact, but then I felt warm hands on my back and a chuckle just above my head. He smelled like leather and aftershave, nothing like the less intimidating scent I had grown to associate with Viktor after sniffing his cologne in the locker room.

“You’re excited to see me, I take it?”

I was, but it was for all the wrong reasons. As I pulled back back and met warm, chocolate eyes, I felt a pang of guilt in my chest. It wasn’t right, to use him as a diversion. It wasn’t fair to him. But still, my lips widened into a smile as fake as the ones Viktor used to flash, my hand reaching down to grab his. 

“Of course. I missed you, Beka.”

It was true- I had missed him. I had missed him enough to think that he could fill a void inside of me, the one I kept pouring more and more emptiness into. I missed him enough to think that seeing him again might make me feel differently. Or, at the very least, make me feel _more_. I wanted to feel for him as I did for Viktor. Surely, if I got even closer and let him in… I would ache for him instead of the filthy charcoal that had clouded my mind.

His hand didn’t send electricity up my arm, and it didn’t make my chest ache like when Viktor’s skin would brush mine. It felt like nothing more than skin against skin, but still, I gripped it tighter. He squeezed my hand in return, and it was as if nothing had changed since the short time we spent together in Barcelona. Sporadic Skype chats and text messages had kept us on the same page with each other, but we fell right back into place with each other once he came to St. Petersburg.

He never treated me like a child, as Yuuri and Viktor did. Nearly three years my senior, he respected me. It didn’t matter that I had just turned sixteen, he never made a sour comment about my being young. He never expected me to be less than what I was due to my age, or due to anything else, for that matter. He treated me as an equal, always. And that was one of the many reasons why he was an amazing first and only friend.

Lilia had another guest room, of course, but Otabek didn’t need to know that at the time. I led him into my own room, where there was a queen-sized bed. I had already cleared out a dresser drawer for his stay, and I smiled shyly as I asked,

“You don’t mind sharing a bed, do you?” We had shared a bed once in Barcelona, when I was too tired to bother finding the elevator and making my way up three more floors to my own room. It couldn’t have possibly been a big deal anymore.

Otabek shrugged, his face remaining the same. “I don’t mind. You don’t, right?”

I smiled serenely, shaking my head. “No, of course not. We’re friends, right? It’s no big deal.”

The hopeful smile he returned let me know that he didn’t see through my pathetic excuses.

Otabek was alabaster, pure and untainted. His intentions were genuine and he always did what was right for others. He wasn’t smudged and he wasn’t jealous, he wasn’t sultry and he wasn’t a snake. Otabek was white, not even ivory. Like freshly fallen snow, like baby’s breathe. Otabek was the purest of us all, and he was the only one fit to be placed on a pedestal. And so, I tried to give him what he deserved, despite my own selfish intentions.

“Yuratchka! Have you no care for your practice? Are you trying to disgrace me?”

I rolled my eyes, ignoring the concerned look Otabek shot me as we walked down the street. “It’s _one day_ , old man, calm down! My friend is visiting. I’ll be at practice tomorrow.”

“Yuratchka, I swear if you don’t-”

I hit the “end call” button and shoved my phone back in my pocket, offering Otabek a reassuring grin. “So what do you want to do?”

Otabek stared uneasily, glancing from my face back to my pocket twice. “Was that your coach? He sounded angry.”

I shrugged, rolling my eyes. “He’ll get over it.” I reached between us, taking his hand into mine once more. It was larger than mine, and stronger. When I threaded our fingers together, I felt rough calluses on his palms. “Have you been to St. Petersburg before?”

Otabek let the matter of Yakov drop for the time being, shaking his head. “No,” he replied. “But I take it you can show me all that there is to see?”

When I’d first come here from Moscow, it had been Viktor who told me of all the sights to see. The Peterhof Palace, the many cathedrals, the theatres and museums. He had even taken Mila and I to the zoo one Saturday, though Yakov had refused to join us on the trip.

“Sometimes,” Viktor had explained as we all stared at the lions, “you have to go against what Yakov says. The man doesn’t know how to have fun.”

“Is that why you cut your hair?” Mila asked him, easily reaching up to stroke his bangs. I watched as he leaned down, giving her better access to do so.

“No, that’s not exactly why.” Viktor lifted his head again, leaning his elbows on the fence. “I had to do something for myself, regardless of what Yakov thought about it. It’s my hair, after all.”

I stared at him for a moment, trying to read his face. He was looking at the lions intently, as if he saw something inside them that Mila and I could not. I reached up and ran my fingers through my own blonde locks, which reached to my chin in a bob. “I think I’d like to grow my hair longer,” I supplied quietly.

Viktor grinned at me, his eyes finally moving from the large cats. “Oh yeah? As long as mine was?”

I had shrugged, dropping my hand from my hair. “Maybe.”

I used the hand that wasn’t holding Otabek’s to touch my hair, which reached nearly to my shoulders. Maybe, I should stop growing it out for now. I squeezed Otabek’s hand, nodding. He squeezed back again, as if he didn’t have to think for a second about returning the gesture.

“I’ll show you everything there is to see.”


	5. Onyx

The bed was large enough to put space between us, and that space was barren and cold. It was our third night together, and I had already begun to notice little quirks about Otabek that I hadn’t seen before. He always slept on his left side, which meant he fell asleep facing me. He brushed his teeth not just twice, but three times a day. He didn’t eat olives and he always passed out within a few minutes of laying down.

I found it hard to sleep with someone else in my bed until I was nearing exhaustion. I spent some time each night looking at the way the moonlight created highlights and shadows on Otabek’s face, and the way his eyelashes fluttered when he slept. Still, thoughts of how Viktor looked when he slept kept filling my mind. How would the moonlight look shining down on silver instead of brown?

I had seen Viktor sleep, of course. I had even shared a bed with him at a hotel once when Yakov had misbooked our rooms. But never had I seen him as vulnerable as Otabek looked. Never had the translucent light poured through the window and taken my breath away, never had I stayed up to watch his mouth part the slightest, his chest rising and falling at a steady pace.

The third night, I moved closer to Otabek. Not close enough to touch him, but close enough that the heat of his body radiated into the now small space between us, warming the chill I had felt on my front. I shut my eyes, relaxing my nerves. The only sound was Otabek’s breathing, close enough that I could almost feel it on my nose. Eyes still shut, I hesitantly reached out.

My hand met the tepid skin of his arm, my fingertips brushing the fine hairs on it. I moved a bit closer, daring to reach out with my free hand. It met his torso, the fabric of his shirt soft on my palm. A noise rose in his throat, a mix between a grunt and a murmur. I gasped quietly as strong arms wrapped around my body, pulling me close.

The warmth was overwhelming, as if I was wrapped up in a heated blanket. Otabek’s breath ghosting my scalp and making me shiver despite the heat. “Yura,” he muttered. “Can’t sleep?”

My chest constricted, but I wrapped my arms around him in return either way. “I think I can sleep just fine now,” I whispered.

Maybe, I was correct in my assumption that feelings could change, and feelings could grow. I had never been embraced by someone like that before, but I soon relaxed into his arms. I drifted off in them, hoping that he wouldn’t let go during the night. He didn’t, or maybe, he moved to hold me close again sometime during the night. As sunlight poured into the room the next morning, his arms still enveloped me.

On the fourth night after skating practice, I snuck Otabek through Lilia’s bedroom, to a little Juliette balcony with French doors. Of course, Lilia wasn’t due home for another few hours, or I wouldn’t have bothered taking the risk. She would murder me if she found me anywhere near her bedroom.

The railing was cold under my fingertips, but my hand warmed right up as Otabek moved his over it to thread our fingers together. I sucked in a sharp breathe, tilting my head up and staring at an onyx sky speckled with dots of light. There were a lot of stars out at this time of night, and each one seemed to be reflecting off Otabek’s eyes.

“I have to go back soon,” he whispered suddenly, his hand tightening around mine.

My heart thudded inside my ribs, loud enough that I thought he might hear it. The shotgun inside me continued to go off as I whispered back, “I wish you wouldn’t.”

His hand trembled above mine, and he tried to jerk it away. “I-”

“Don’t,” I whispered, clutching onto it. “Don’t pull away.”

“Yuri, I-”

As he turned in to speak to me properly, I saw my chance. My free hand gripping his shoulder and pulling me up onto my toes, I surged forward and let my eyes close. I rose a few feet above the balcony, closer to the starry night sky, as I felt the surprised noise he expelled against my lips before relaxing into the touch.

It wasn’t electric, as I expected. It didn’t feel like I was outside of my body, though I do think my heart inflated a bit. The warmth was intoxicating, but not enough to get me drunk. Buzzed, I sucked in a sharp breath as I pulled back, noting the deep flush that spread over Otabek’s cheeks.

“Stay,” I requested again, my hand still gripping his shoulder. 

His hands had found my waist, keeping me rooted. Our faces were still just a breath apart, dangerously close. Our noses were near brushing, and I could feel him breathing heavily onto my lips. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but changed his mind halfway through. A desperate sound escaped before he shut them again, pressing them back against mine.

“Yuri,” he mumbled as he pulled back.

His hand cupped my cheek, and I nuzzled into the touch. “Beka,” I answered, watching his eyes widen. We were close enough that I could only focus on one of those sparkling orbs at a time.

“I can’t…” Otabek desperately searched for an excuse, his thumb brushing my cheek with the slightest hint of a quake. “What about skating…”

I licked my lips, my thoughts drifting to Viktor. “Yakov took on Viktor’s pig. He would be lucky to take on a strong skater like you.”

His eyes shut for a moment, and I knew that he was scrambling for another reason. It wasn’t to convince me, it was to convince himself. “Is this why you were so set on me coming here? So we could… be together?”

Guilt swam inside me, but I swallowed it down like a bitter pill. I did like him, in fact, I loved him. It wasn’t like my love for Viktor, but it was love just the same. It had grown in the past few days, and it could grow more, couldn’t it? I swallowed down every apprehensive thought with my pride, nodding in his hand.

“I want to be together.” A transient lie, soon to become truth. This is what I convinced myself as I shut my eyes.

When his lips brushed mine again, I heard his wordless promise.

_I’ll stay with you, Yuri._


	6. Frost

I had always been cold, feeling only tiny glimpses of heat. I was born in a bitter chill and raised on the shimmering ice. The rink was my home, my prison, my sanctuary, and the hunger for success was all I’d ever known. It was all I ever would know, were it not for Viktor, who lit up my eyes as he glided by, and set my nerves on fire with a casual touch. 

An arm around my shoulder or a pat on the head was like a thousand needles setting my skin on fire, penetrating the frosty exterior that shielded me from the outside world. Even after his touch was long gone, there was a warmth that lingered in my flesh, a phantom of the torch that Viktor carried wherever he went. He soothed the blistering winter storm that had me trapped, and I never stopped craving his warmth after feeling it for the first time.

 

The cold inside me was not as easily thawed, but in time, I could feel my insides melting. It started in my chest, a burning radiation that tempered everything inside my core and then spread to each finger and toe. My insides were a churning mess, even if my outer shell was still in tact. I was warmed, but this time it wasn’t by Viktor. 

While Otabek melted me from the inside out, it was only Viktor’s heat that could touch the barrier I’d built on every inch of my skin. Their heat was contrasting, one penetrative and the other only skin-deep. One felt true and the other fabrication. But still, I tried to cling to both of them, my selfish need for warmth overriding what was good for Otabek, and possibly even what was good for me.

Yakov had grumbled less about coaching Otabek than he had about Yuuri training at the rink and being coached by Viktor. Whether it was simply to appease me so I wouldn’t pitch a fit, or the fact that Viktor had already worn him down, I didn’t know. Still, I was glad to keep my first and only friend close.

It was what I convinced myself of, as I watched his frame glide across the ice. He wasn’t graceful- he had even said so himself. Nothing like Viktor or Yuuri, nothing like me. He was strong- stoic, even. It was something that the other skaters didn’t seem to possess, something that set him apart. He didn’t participate in Lilia’s vigorous ballet training as the rest of us did, and Yakov didn’t push it on him. He had something unique about him, though it was something he had previously said he hated about himself. 

“I think I’ve accepted that I’ll never be as graceful as you, Yura.”

The one person who had called me by my proper name had now fallen victim to the diminutive. How I longed to be called by my proper name again, regardless of the formality of it. I only saw green, even if the reason for my jealousy made no sense. I seethed, thinking of just how much the other Yu(u)ri had stolen from me.

“Are you looking for pity?” I asked, joining him on the bench and easily threading our fingers together.

_His touch will keep you grounded. Hold on tight._

He shook his head, taking a sip from his water bottle. “No,” he muttered. “I wouldn’t expect that from you, anyway.” He capped the bottle, his hand momentarily leaving mine. “I can't skate like you or Viktor, but we all have our own strengths, right?”

I watched as Viktor launched himself into the air, arms coming together and then spreading back out for his landing. No, Otabek couldn’t skate like Viktor. No one could- including me. I balked at how easily Otabek put us in the same league.

I could kiss him with ease. His lips were warm and soft, thick and controlling. They felt different against mine than I imagined Viktor’s might. I had tried, once or twice, to imagine that Otabek’s lips were Viktor’s. I had seen him kiss Yuuri enough times, imaging his lips were on mine, to note the differences. Otabek kissed me properly but with a hint of hesitation, as if he might break me. Viktor kissed Yuuri as if he wanted to consume him whole, and make their bodies join together as one. No, I couldn’t imagine that Otabek was Viktor. It was probably better that way.

“You watch him a lot.”

“Huh?”

I whipped my head around to face Otabek, who was nodding his head towards the ice. “You watch him a lot- Viktor, I mean.”

“Everyone watches Viktor,” I muttered.

Otabek chuckled lowly, thumbing at my hand. “Well, you watch him in a different way, I guess. It’s hard to explain.”

My face burned as I snatched my hand away from his, hair falling forward to try and cover up my shame. “Shut up,” I hissed.

His hand met my chin, forcing my eyes back up to his face. Confusion flickered across it, eyebrows furrowing with worry as he thumbed gentle circles onto my skin. “Yura? I was just going to say that... I’m sure he would work with you, if you asked him to. I’m sure he’d want to spend more time with you, he’s always asking you to lunch and-”

“Shut _up_.” I yanked myself away from his grasp and rose from the bench, barely resisting the urge to kick something. I dug my skateguard down into the padded floor, instead, my chest constricting. “I don’t want his help, and I don’t need it.”

Confusion thawed into hurt, and I didn’t dare to stay and watch the aftershocks of my explosion. I turned and ran from the scene, not stopping until I reached the bathroom. Alone inside, I locked myself in a stall moments before tears began to fall. I was just as pathetic as the pig.

“Idiot, idiot, idiot!”

I slammed my fists against the metal walls, my feet kicking at the door. It wasn’t Otabek’s fault, I knew that. But it didn’t matter. My need to protect myself and my secrets overrode his feelings, just as they did when I asked him to stay. I was selfish, and I knew that. But I couldn’t stop myself from the way I felt, and I wasn’t sure I even wanted to.

I ended up on the closed toilet lid, knees to my chest and face buried in my hands. Tears pooled in my palms, and breathing them in only caused me to launch into a coughing fit. Saline burned my throat and nose as I sputtered, barely able to hear the bathroom door opening.

“Yuri?”

Finally, my proper name was spoken once more, under the worst circumstances. I quickly lifted my face from my hands, trying to sniffle the last of my tears away. I dabbed my face with toilet paper, trying not to rub and leave more proof of my crying fit.

“Yuri?”

I cleared my throat, trying not to let my voice shake. “What?”

A soft thud reverberated against the metal door, causing me to recoil. I could hear his breathing close to mine, and I feared his inevitable disgust. I waited to hear about my childish behavior, eyes falling shut as I waited for him to begin.

“Are you okay?”

My eyes shot open again, chest tightening up once more. I told him to shut up, I pulled away from him. I gave him no explanation and stormed away- he should be angry, he should be calling me immature. That’s what anyone else would have done.

“Yuri? Please, open the door.”

Despite everything inside of me screaming to keep the door locked, I found myself moving the latch. His mouth was set in a firm line, his eyes no longer wet with hurt. Sighing, he pulled me into a tight embrace.

“I didn't know it was such a sore subject- I’m sorry for upsetting you.”

It hurt, knowing that he truly was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you sosososo much, Sheep, for all your help.


	7. Aurelian

How could a smile be so wry and yet so sweet? How could he make me fall with one flash of his teeth, or a flip of his bangs? I reached out to grasp onto something, anything- and I caught hold of his hand. The smile morphed into something more dangerous, and my heart sank further down into my stomach. My mouth opened but not a sound came out, and his lips began to move. I couldn’t hear anything but static. My hand slipped from his, and I fell even faster.

My back hit the ground, searing pain running up my spine. Something else slammed into my chest- did I fall face-down? No, I didn’t fall at all. Sweat dripping down my face, I was sitting up in bed with one of Otabek’s hands steadying my back and front. Gasping, I tried to take in a steady breath.

“Did you have a nightmare?” He asked gently.

I shook my head, my mind replaying the image of Viktor dropping my hand over and over again. Still, I couldn’t hate the scornful likeness in my dream. I would have reached out for him again, a thousand times over. I swallowed the realization that I would wait forever to feel his hand hold onto mine, an eternity to feel our breath mix. I pulled away from Otabek as if I’d been burned.

“I’m fine, I need to be alone,” I managed as I scrambled from the bed, nearly tripping on my way into the hall. 

Silence consumed me as I reached the living room, and I allowed myself to collapse on the floor on my back. I turned my head towards the open window, staring at the way a silver moon taunted me in the sky. It would never get any better, would it? He would continue to haunt me for as long as I lived.

It had been over two months since Otabek decided to stay, but I still couldn’t get Viktor out of my head. Even lying by myself on the living room rug, memories haunted me. Guilt was eating me from the inside out. Remembering was the least I could do, after what I was putting Otabek through. Remembering was all there was left to give me a shred of solace. So, I let myself remember that sharp intake of breath as he turned his head to me , the rough fabric of Lilia's ornate rug burning my cheek as I turned, as well. I exhaled a sharp breath painfully slow, the scent of mint toothpaste filling the small space between us. His voice was ragged as the words "I love you" warmed my lips.

“I love you, too,” I had answered, though it came as an automatic response rather than a genuine display of feeling. He had moved his hand to grip mine, the other digging into his pocket.

“Here,” he had murmured, slipping a cool metal ring onto my finger.

It was gold, like theirs. A matching one was placed in the center of my palm by his warm hand, and I inhaled sharply, repeating, “I love you.” Otabek held out his hand, mine shaking as I slipped the ring on his finger.

 _Selfish_.

 _Phony_.

 _Appalling_.

 _Despicable_.

Tears began to soak into the expensive carpet below me, but I made no attempt to sit up. My heart was being pulled in two directions, but I already knew which it would be severed in. I couldn’t give Viktor up, and I never would. Just as I had brought him here, I would end up pushing Otabek away. 

_Loathsome_.

“Yuri?”

I had enough time to wipe my eyes before sitting up, the room spinning around me. The walls warped for a few seconds before Otabek appeared in the spill of moonlight, sitting down next to me. I trembled as he touched me, a gentle hand landing on my shoulder and squeezing.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

When I swallowed, it was thick; I had to swallow twice before I was able to speak, desperately fighting off the urge to cough up the sour taste. “No,” I muttered. “I didn’t come out here to be followed,” I spat. “I came out here to be alone.”

I couldn’t face him, so I stared down at the patterns on the rug. I couldn’t allow myself to watch the damage I was doing in real-time. The sigh he expelled was shaky, almost as breathy as a laugh. His hand left my shoulder as cold as the rink, causing me to shiver at the loss. His form moved further away, a shadow clouding the moonlight on the rug. My head spun with the cruelty of my own words.

“Yeah, I guess you did.” His figure moved out of the trail of dim light, shuffling footsteps in the hallway breaking my ears. “I’ll sleep in the guest room tonight,” he muttered.

My chest constricted more and more the further away the footsteps got, though the pounding in my ears lessened. My hands barely caught me as I leant forward, forehead rubbing against the stupid carpet. 

_How could you do this to him? You’re a piece of shit. An utter piece of shit._

Eventually, I did make it back into my bedroom. It was lacking Otabek, as promised. As I burrowed under the covers, I scrolled through my phone. It was an ungodly hour, but I felt my eyes trained on one contact in my phone, hovering over the name that had changed so many times over the years- “Viktor”, “Old Man”, “Lying Fuckface”. Currently, it was back to “Old Man”.

I resisted the urge to click the call button, or even the message button. I instead clicked on the edit button, backspacing all the characters of the current contact name. Sighing, I revert it back to “Viktor”- before I was close enough to tease him about his age. Before, even, he broke every promise he had ever made to me. Formal; his proper name. 

I scrolled all the way up, to a contact I had labelled “Beka”. Teeth sinking into my lip, I bit back my pride and texted him, “I’m sorry. Please come back to bed.”

 _Selfish_.

 _Phony_.

 _Appalling_.

 _Despicable_.

 

Minutes later, the door to my room creaked, and a heat moved under the covers with me. “Come here,” he whispered, gathering me into a warm embrace. I shut my eyes, leaning back into it. The touch both relaxed and wired me, guilt swimming inside of me like a polluted sea.

 _Loathsome_.

“I love you, Yuri,” he whispered, the words warming the back of my neck as he nuzzled against my skin.

I squeezed my eyes shut, imagining it was a different set of arms clasped around me. A silver fringe tickling the back of my neck instead of Otabek’s dark hair. Viktor's aurelian instead of Otabek's. “I love you…”

 _Viktor_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for editing this, Sheep! <3


	8. Viridian

_“Then said the Lord unto me, Go yet, love a woman beloved of her friend, yet an adulteress, according to the love of the Lord toward the children of Israel, who look to other gods, and love flagons of wine.”_ Hosea 3:1

“Despite their sins, God continued to show his love for Israel. Despite her sins, despite her infidelity, she was not freed of her marriage.” The pastor closed his bible, pacing to the other side of the room. “Unconditional love.”

 _Agape_. I had glanced up at my grandfather, sitting next to him in the church pew. Despite winning with my Agape routine, I still wasn’t sure that I understood it. But, the pastor seemed to have a pretty good idea. Even the sinners, the unfaithful, were forgiven under the veil of God’s unconditional love.

While I was away training, my grandfather started visiting the church near our house. He never said exactly why, but I figured it was because he was lonely. I never got the appeal of the services, but I dutifully followed along that Sunday morning

Months later, I remembered that sermon as I stared at Otabek’s sleeping body. The guilt that swam inside of me had begun to tear at my insides, leaving me in a constant state of acidic torment. Even as I tried to convince myself that I was somehow not the scum I had begun to associate myself with, I knew deep inside that I was wrong. I was doing nothing but causing us both pain. 

I hadn’t missed a quad salchow in some time. I landed it 80% of the time in practice, and 85% in competition. Yet, Yakov was shouting at me as I ran through my routine over and over, missing the jump each time. I was panting by the time I skidded to a stop near the edge of the ice, elbows resting on the barrier and hands holding my face. Otabek had waved me over to him, but I had ignored him. There was nothing he could say that would make me feel better.

“Yurio?”

I seethed at the nickname, but didn’t bring my face up from my hands. “What do you want, Pig?”

“Uhm…” He sounded so unsure that I almost thought he wasn’t going to continue. But in the end, he did. “Viktor always says I flub my jumps when there is something on my mind. Do you… Is there anything on your mind, Yurio?”

I finally raised my head, teeth clenching. “Stop calling me that,” I hissed. I stole a glance across the ice, to where Otabek and Viktor were working on their routines in opposite quarters of the rink. As always, my eyes were drawn to the blur of silver and black instead of my own boyfriend, the one I was supposed to love. 

“Yura,” he tried again, nearly inaudible.My eyes darted up to his, innocent and wide begin his frames. But I knew it was an act. His composure showed nothing but innocence, but I wasn’t convinced by his act. He had stolen Viktor from everyone, including me. He knew what he had been doing. “Yura, is there something on your mind?”

“There is nothing on my mind,” I snapped, “and even if there was, I would never discuss it with _you_.”

A warm hand touched my arm as I spun around, ready to skate back across the ice. His touch burned, not like Viktor’s sultry fire, but like frostbite. _Crimson_ , I reminded myself. _He is crimson, scarlet- smooth and knowing, sultry and seductive. That is how he stole Viktor_.

“I’m sorry that you feel like Viktor chose me over you.”

The words hung in the air, wrapping around my throat tight enough to strangle me. Was I that transparent? I swallowed, trying to unwind the ribbons of vulnerability from my neck and somehow found the will to open my mouth, even though no words managed to fight their way out.

“That’s what it is, isn’t it?” He continued, a newfound confidence in his voice. It wasn’t smug, just _knowing_. And that was even worse. “He said you were always like a little brother to him… I didn’t mean to take him away from you, Yura.”

I realized a moment too late that I was choking on the words, the stinging bile rising into my throat. It took everything I had in me to swallow it back down, nearly gagging as I did so. A little brother. Of course that was what he saw me as- it was all he would ever see me as. I was a fool to think it could ever be any different.

“Fuck you,” I managed, my voice shaking. “Fuck you,” I repeated.

I shoved out of his gentle grasp, eyeing where Viktor was practicing his step sequence. _That bastard_. I was across the ice before I could change my mind, plowing into him hard enough that he stumbled, nearly crashing down onto the ice. He scowled, opening his mouth to scold me as the ice grew silent around us. Not a single blade scraped the surface as I balled my fists into the front of his shirt, stretching the fabric beyond repair.

“I’m not your fucking little brother, and I don’t give a single shit that you left!” I screamed at him, shaking him by his shirt. The entire rink was silent, and not even Yakov had mind to scold me.

“Yura, I-”

“You shouldn’t have came back!” I screeched. The scraping of blades once again filled my ears, the sound pounding at my brain. They skidded to a stop behind me, a hand landing on my shoulder and squeezing. “You and that fucking pi-”

“Yura.”

I tensed even more under Otabek’s hand, the sound of his voice pushing me completely over the edge. “Fuck you, too,” I spat, the words burning my throat. No, it wasn’t the words.

I shoved away from them both, barely able to make it to the edge of the ice before bile filled my mouth again. This time, I couldn’t swallow it back down. I left my skate guards where they sat on the edge of the rink. I managed to stumble to a trash can before emptying my breakfast into it. Viridian, like the kale smoothie Lilia forced me to drink that morning. Viridian, like the envy boiling inside my blood.

I hear footsteps behind me, but no hand touched me as I retched. The voice didn’t sound until I had finished, wiping my mouth on the back of my hand and wincing at the bitter taste left in it. I could see his shadow, the top half folding over the wastebasket and making him look even taller than he actually was.

“You love him, don’t you?”

I didn’t have to think for a second to know that it wasn’t actually a question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Triple thank you to my friend Sheep for editing this, as always! <333


	9. Turquoise

“You love him, don’t you?”

I stood on shaking legs, my eyes darting from Otabek to the ice behind him, where our rinkmates were staring at us with great interest. I shook my head, rushing past him for my skate guards and slipping them onto my blades. I made the mistake of glancing at Viktor as I did so, his eyes meeting mine with something softer than I had ever seen before.

“Not here,” I muttered, heading towards the locker room. I didn’t look back, knowing he was sure to follow me wherever I went. The past few months had taught me that.

Inside the locker room, I didn’t sit, but faced the lockers in front of me. I couldn’t look at him- not now. I could feel the exact moment when everything between us broke, even without turning to see it happen. The air was constricting,realization hanging between us like toxic fumes. I was choking on it, and so was he.

"You love him," he stated, voice dangerously calm. 

When I finally turned around, I saw that his demeanor spoke otherwise- brows furrowed and nostrils flared, he clenched a fist at his side. Beads of sweat dripped down to my brow as I begged him, "please, don't." 

_Don't make me admit it, I can't bear to admit it_. 

"You love him," he repeated as I shook my head violently. "Just admit it, Yuri! Or would you rather drag this out even longer?" 

“I-”

“You whisper his name in your sleep, sometimes.”

The silence was strangling me again. I exhaled raggedly, tears leaking down my cheeks. "I love him," I whispered, a sob breaking in my ribs and crawling up my throat. The realization of what I’d said knocked the wind out of me, nearly causing me to sink down to my shaking knees. I had admitted it- not just to myself, but to my boyfriend. The one I was supposed to love. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Beka." 

"You can't make something out of nothing," he whispered. His hands were shaking as strong fingers slipped the ring of gold off the other hand. "Here," he told me, pressing the metal into my palm. "I'm sorry that I wasn't what you were looking for." 

Even in a moment of heartbreak, he was the better person. Even with all I had put him through, he was still the one to apologize to me. He was calm, but I was unravelling at the seams. He was composed, when tears began to leak from my eyes, heating my cheeks as I fought the urge to sob once more. He kept his head down, as he sat on the bench, slowly and mechanically unlacing his skates. The ring in my fist suddenly felt heavy, as if I might tip to one side from trying to hold it up.

He placed his skates in his bag, slipped his feet into his sneakers one after the other, and tied them with the same robotic stiffness fas before . The ring grew heavier in my hand as I watched his movements, drinking them in before he disappeared for good. , He pulled on his jacket, slinging his bag over his shoulder as he stood. I sunk to the floor under the rings’ weight, slipping off the matching one that I still donned. They both fell to the floor, clanking in the silent room.

“You should tell him,” Otabek suggested “It isn’t healthy to live with a secret so big.” That was the last thing he ever said to me.

Otabek was gone just as quickly as he’d come to me, and I was left alone on the floor. The breath l had been holding in my lungs only left them when the door shut behind him, the air in the room suddenly becoming thin and useless. No matter how much air I sucked in, I still couldn’t breathe. My fists found the floor, my knees aching from digging into the tile.

“Fuck!” I hissed, fists slamming down hard enough to hurt. “Fuck!”

It all caved in at that moment- everything I had been holding back for all these months, and everything I had been trying to come to terms with for years. No one could replace Viktor in my heart, not when he was still within a teasing touch or a fruitful glance. Living in a clouded dream wouldn’t make these feelings go away, or even suppress them enough so that I could breathe. 

I had been sinking further into a falsehood while thinking I could heal myself. My turquoise mirage had walked out the door, as he should have months ago. I was wrong to ask him to come here, and even worse to ask him to stay. Yet, even broken, he did what I was too weak to do. He walked out of my life, leaving me as bare as I had ever been. When I sat up, my back hit the lockers behind me with a thud that reverberated all the way through my chest.

“Yura?”

My skates were off and in my bag, the gold rings tossed in the trash by the time the locker room door creaked open. I lifted my face from my hands, wanting to run from the room. My elbows still resting on my knees as I sat on the bench, my feet refused to move from where they were planted on the ground. As footsteps sounded behind me, I silently begged, _no, don’t come any closer_.

He sat next to me, close enough that I felt his warmth next to me. “What happened, Yura?”

 _Nothing, I just love you_.

“Leave me alone,” I managed, voice shaking.

“You’ve been crying,” he whispered. His hand brushed my hair out of my face, fully exposing my raw cheek to him. “Did you and Otabek have a fight?”

I could tell by his tone of voice that it wasn’t really a question. “Fuck off, Viktor.”

“Did you explode on him like you did on me?”

“Fuck _off_!”

Viktor was quiet for a moment, until his arm found its way around my shoulders. The contact scalded me, and I instinctively moved away from it. He sighed, reluctantly dropping his arm to the dead space between us on the bench.

“Pushing everyone away won’t do you any good. We all care about you, Yura.”

I huffed, forcing a brave face. “Well, I don’t care about any of you.”

How I wished the words were sincere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you sosososooooooo very much to Sheep for editing this!


	10. Ebony

Sleeping alone after months of sharing a bed had left me restless, sleep refusing to take me until the wee hours of the morning. I arrived to practice late and was greeted by Yakov’s shouting, while Viktor and Yuuri sent sympathetic glances from across the rink. I flubbed more jumps than I landed, falling out of spins and step sequences that I had perfected years before. I was a broken man, and not even skating would keep me together. The late practices began ending earlier, Yakov sending me home to rest.

But rest wouldn’t come. The bed was cold and barren, but my heart was on fire.I was smouldering on the inside, only thawing when bitter tears rolled down my cheeks and into my pillow. My heart was shattered again and again with every sunrise, even after the tears stopped coming, and my fears grew bigger than my pride. Only then did I stop showing up at practice altogether.

Seeing him alone made me want to vomit, and seeing him with Yuuri made me want to die. The mere thought of the rink ripped me to pieces, and all I saw when I walked past with my eyes closed was a blurred mixture of his face and Otabek’s. When my finger hovered over Otabek’s number, my head spun with loss of composure,. And I realized there was no way I could live like this, when all that kept reality from crashing down on me was a shred of false hope.

Every town has a bridge that leads to nothing, where one can stare down from a precipice and beg the water to swallow them whole. There was one in Yuuri’s hometown in Japan, and there was one in Barcelona where the last Final was held. There was one in St. Petersburg, too, where seagulls swarmed and boats passed by during the day. At night, however, it was deserted.

I didn’t deserve love. I barely deserved life. From the bridge, I looked up at the night sky. Was it any different than the one I had stood under and asked Otabek to stay? I kept my eyes fixed on the stars, refusing to look at the water below. Fumbling for the strap of my skating bag, I hoisted it over the edge.. I wouldn't be needing it anymore, but I still winced as it splashed into the water below. Years of hard work disappeared into the depths with a loud glug..

I stayed until the ripples had long faded away, only rising to my feet when the tears had dried on my face. I laughed bitterly into the silence, spinning on my heel. It was well after eleven at night, but I didn’t go back to Lilia’s. I walked in the opposite direction, choosing to make the trek on foot rather than climb into a stifling taxi. .   
I stared up at the massive complex, shivering in the night air The building was dotted with a few lit windows, some people still awake.Through one, I saw two people clinking glasses. Through another, I heard music. I knew which window was the one that looked out from his living room, and the one that looked out from his bedroom. Both were ebony as the night sky, so I took out my phone.

His voice was languid with sleep, but I didn’t miss the hint of worry as he asked, . “Yura? Are you okay?”

Those four words ripped through me, and I was tempted to turn and run like the coward I was. But I couldn’t- not this time. This was the last burden to rid myself of before leaving for good. I couldn’t have unfinished business hanging over my head. “Come downstairs. Alone. I need to see you.” I hung up before he had a chance to ask for more information, shoving my phone in my pocket.

He was downstairs in less than five minutes, clad in loose sweatpants and a robe. . On his feet were a pair of slippers, and his hair was the messiest I’d ever seen it, but he was still flawless in my eyes. He didn’t hesitate to place both hands on my shoulders, looking me over as if searching for injuries. 

“What’s wrong, Yura?”

His voice was so frantic, and I almost smiled in spite of myself. Instead, I tore myself from his warm touch, shaking my head. “I have to tell you something,” I whispered.

“At this time of night?”

I nodded, kicking the ground and trying to steel myself for what was to come. “I love you, Viktor.”

“I lo-”

“Shut up,” I muttered, no bite in my tone. Hands shaking and knees weak, I rose onto the tips of my toes to place my hands on his shoulders. His hands gripped my forearms carefully, eyes wide as I leaned in and closed the miniscule pocket of air we shared.

His lips were just as I imagined, and the touch seemed to last forever. He didn’t kiss me back, but that didn’t matter to me. This was the only touch I would ever have, and it was enough for me. It would have to be enough for me. When I pulled away, my hands fell from his shoulders, his own dropping down to his sides.

“Yura, I don’t think you-”

“Shut up,” I repeated, sounding much calmer than my pounding heart made me feel. “I already know what you’re going to say. I didn’t come here for a different answer, or for pity. I don’t want an answer at all.”

“Then…” he paused, his face contorting. “Why did you..?”

As I stared at his filthy charcoal, I realized I had been colorblind this entire time. The pig wasn’t crimson, he didn’t steal anything from me. Yuuri was just as alabaster as Otabek. I was never meant to have him in the first place. Viktor was just as silver as he’d ever been- the charcoal smudges were made by me. I laughed bitterly, shaking my head. “I’m leaving; you don’t have to worry. I just… needed to let you know before I went.”

“Where are you going, Yura?”

I shrugged, turning away. “Somewhere I can breathe.”

He called after me, but I refused to turn back. I continued in the direction of Lilia’s house, where my bags were already packed. I took my phone out two blocks from Viktor’s, dialing the only number I knew by heart. The answering machine picked up after a few rings, and I spoke into the phone feeling lighter than I had in months.

“Grandpa? It’s Yuratchka. I’m coming home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know it isn't the ending most were hoping for, but I hope you enjoyed the ride, regardless. A massive thank you to Sheep for helping me with this entire work and fixing my word-vomit xD


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